Chapter 88: An Uninvited Guest

"I didn't save you out of any sense of duty; I simply couldn't bear to watch any longer. So-called revered figures of the martial world—aren't they all just cunning, shameless scoundrels? Just the sight of them is infuriating." A pause, perhaps the greatest sign of a lie, yet at this moment, the words did not ring false. At least, in Shao Changchun's heart, such thoughts truly did exist. Of course, Han Tanyi could not understand this. His face still bore an expression of confusion. Those who have lost the will to live seldom show much gratitude to their rescuers; instead, they may resent such meddling. Yet, watching the other busy himself with brewing medicine and tending to him, he found no grounds for complaint. Right and wrong, after all, are rarely clear-cut. He turned his head away again, his gaze drifting to the roof above. Perhaps from years of neglect, a large hole had opened there at some unknown time, and now a sliver of moonlight shone through, casting its pale glow. Only then did Han Tanyi ask, "Aren't you the master of the Eastern Gate? Aren't the Four Great Sects sworn enemies of the Blue Lotus Sect? If I truly were a disciple of Blue Lotus, shouldn't you hate me? Why would you—?"

"Hate you?" Shao Changchun paused again. The question was not without reason. Shao Donghua had died on Mount Sanlang; by all rights, a son's hatred for his father's killers should be boundless. Shao Changchun ought to be the one who detested the Blue Lotus Sect most of all. His actions, then, were difficult to fathom—even to himself, and for a moment he was at a loss for words. Fortunately, the timing was just right; the fire in the hearth grew faint, and he busied himself with adding fuel, using the task as a convenient distraction. Silence fell. In the dark, the fire's glow seemed all the brighter, casting deep shadows across his face, as if he were pondering the other's words.

"If he truly were the young master of the Eastern Gate, of course he would hate you to the core. Sixteen years ago, that battle claimed Brother Donghua's life and left Changchun an orphan. Yet perhaps she, too, is an orphan—not her father, but her mother perished in that fight. She ought not to hate the Blue Lotus Sect at all; perhaps her true hatred should be reserved for the Four Great Sects!" The voice came suddenly from outside, aged and quiet, yet clear enough for the two inside to hear every word. In such a moment, with the night so still, the sudden arrival of a stranger set their nerves instantly on edge. Han Tanyi, his body too weak, could not move much, but Shao Changchun was different. He spun around and sprang to his feet in one fluid motion, his hand flying to the hilt of his sword, eyes fixed intently on the unknown visitor as he barked, "Who’s there?"

"My dear nephew, this is hardly our first meeting. Have you so soon forgotten your uncle's voice? That is rather disheartening. Young people these days—your memory is not half so good as mine. What a shame, what a shame!" As the voice spoke, the door swung open. With the figure backlit by moonlight, his features were hard to make out, but his posture and silver hair left no doubt as to his identity: it was Shen Wansan. For such a man to suddenly appear in this place, could he have come seeking him? That was Han Tanyi’s first thought, but he quickly dismissed it; Shen Wansan was alone, and intuition warned that things were not so simple.

"Master Shen, your abilities are indeed formidable—finding such a secluded place so quickly. But have you forgotten something? We have crossed swords before. One-on-one, you have little chance against me. You, always so prudent, why have you acted so rashly tonight? Coming here all alone—are you not afraid?" Shao Changchun’s hand remained on his sword. Though his words were confident, his movements were cautious, his gaze locked on Shen Wansan, every muscle tensed with vigilance. Shen Wansan’s expression, however, showed not the slightest change. Indeed, Shao’s words were not false; if it came to a fight, Shen could not be certain of victory.

Shao Changchun was quick, but Shen Wansan was no slower. Almost simultaneously, the two surged toward Han Tanyi. There was a clear, ringing clang as sword met flesh—Shao’s blade hovered mere inches from the youth’s throat, close enough that one more thrust would have drawn blood. But the sword was not aimed at Han Tanyi; rather, it was to block the palm-strike Shen Wansan had launched. With his advance checked, Shen did not press the attack. Instead, with a sudden leap, he retreated to where he started, a broad smile on his face. "Back then, you managed to rescue someone from both Dao the Old Ghost and myself—not because you surpassed us, but only because our earlier battle had drained too much of our strength, and you took advantage of our exhaustion. Tonight, things are different. You blocked my palm just now, but what about the next ten? If you only had to protect yourself, perhaps you could manage, but if you must defend another as well, that is quite another matter!"

This was no exaggeration. Even Han Tanyi could see it clearly—the sword and the palm just now, Shao had used all his strength, but Shen had held something back. If they exchanged ten more blows, things might indeed turn out as Shen predicted—he himself would not survive. Not that Han Tanyi particularly cared; life and death seemed trivial to him, and release would be welcome. But to endanger the young man beside him—that did stir some guilt in his heart. Yet that was not the key concern. His gaze lingered on Shao Changchun, his mind whirling with questions: "Shao Changchun—undoubtedly the name of the Eastern Gate’s master. Why, then, did Shen Wansan speak as if he were not? He seemed to know this young man very well. Earlier, when I asked why he did not hate me, his confusion seemed genuine, instinctive even. But if he is not Shao Changchun, then who is he? Why risk his life to save me—could it really be nothing more than an act of conscience?"

All his thoughts were fixed on Shao Changchun, paying little heed to Shen Wansan. Yet now was not the time for questions—distraction could be fatal when facing such a formidable foe. In a contest between masters, victory and defeat are decided in a single instant. Therefore, Han Tanyi could only watch in silence, unable to think of anything else he might do. After all, some instinct told him that Shen Wansan’s true motives tonight had little to do with himself, and everything to do with the young man.

"It seems your words have some truth; I indeed cannot guarantee his safety against your attacks. So tell me, Master Shen, why have you come here alone? Is this to be another bargain like the one you tried to strike with Xiao Jinghao? Aren’t you afraid you’ll end up just as you did at the Martial Gathering—outwitted and left with nothing, your efforts benefiting someone else instead?"

Shao Changchun sheathed his sword. Since there was no certainty of success, a fight would be pointless. Besides, if Shen Wansan truly meant to kill Han Tanyi, he would have done so already—there was no need for all this talk. Three days ago, Han Tanyi might have been a valuable pawn, but now, his worth was all but spent. To gamble on such a worthless piece would not be the move of a man like Shen Wansan. Thus, from the start, Shao Changchun had understood his intentions, and spoke accordingly—invoking the Martial Gathering, speaking of losses and wasted efforts, all to provoke Shen’s irritation. It was a small but effective tactic.

Indeed, Shen Wansan’s face darkened, as if Shao’s words had touched a sore point. Yet the expression faded quickly—one did not reach Shen’s age and position without learning to master one’s emotions. Instead, a faint smile appeared. "My dear nephew, there is no need to provoke me. My presence here means I do not see you as enemies. But you are right about one thing: I planned the Martial Gathering with great care, all for the position of Wulin Alliance Chief. I invested much effort, even gave our clan’s treasured Seven-Colored Night Pearl to Prince Qi, Xiao Jinghao, and still, in the end, Dao the Old Ghost reaped the benefit. Of course I am resentful!"

The sigh that escaped him was utterly genuine. Han Tanyi could not understand why Shen Wansan would speak so openly before him and Shao Changchun, but at least now one mystery was solved: he had once played the role of the Golden Leaf, but what he had stolen was only a Cold Cicada Pearl. It had all been part of Shen Wansan’s scheme. No wonder such a treasure, and the honor that went with it, had been so carelessly pursued—Mingyue Manor’s search was all for show. His own actions, it seemed, had merely been a piece in someone else’s game. If not the Golden Leaf, then there would have been a Copper or Silver one; the true purpose was always the same—to frame the Blue Lotus Sect.